Petite, wild, carefree - those were the words that came to mind when Jorgan considered his new CO. On Ord Mantel the little girl, easily half his age and without a quarter of his experience, ripped through the Seps like a hot knife through butter laughing all the while. Infuriatingly, the girl obeyed the orders she wanted, ignored the ones she didn't like, had an irreverent attitude towards those in command... And had been put in charge of the Republic's crack fighting force. Insult to injury On top of his demotion.
It was a shock then, a pleasant one, to see the fire in her eyes. To hear her furious on his behalf. And when it was all said and done, feel the camaraderie when she said, "Their loss, my gain." While he had seen how gently she had treated the refugees, it hadn't occurred to him that people actually mattered to her.
He did his job perfectly, watched her back, and kept an eye on her to make sure she didn't send Havoc Squad's reputation down in flames... But she continued to surprise him. The one thing she was utterly serious about was getting the job done. Not in the good enough, bureaucratic nonsense way that was infecting the Troops these days, but holding up the standard of the Republic should be held. After a while he stopped expecting her to lord her position over him and started respecting his CO as someone who had the raw materials to be one of the good ones.
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CO of THE Havoc Squad. She was practically fresh out of Boot and had graduated from the academy younger than a lot of people went in. She wasn't sure if this was a dream or a nightmare. Honestly, while she had thought that she had done well on Ord Mantel, she had expected them to transfer in an experienced officer. Not just dump the whole thing in her very green lap. Maybe that's why they had given her Jorgan. To keep her straight. Sadly he was as awkward as people person as she was. Yes she wanted her people to do their job right... But she wanted it to be because THEY wouldn't settle for less than giving their best, not because that is the way it should be done and if they didn't the boss would kill them. All the same she was glad to have him. The Cathar may be overbearing, but he was dead good at his job.
She had went ahead and gotten his background records, partly to practice for when she had to start recruiting and partly so she could see what she had gotten. Turns out she'd gotten someone pretty good. His last assignment had been as a part of the Deadeyes, a squad of snipers, as good at what they did as Havoc. They'd go out, eventually hit their target and leave chaos and easy pickings for the rest of the troops. While not officially trained as such, he had several markups and honorable mentions as a data analysts and decoder. He also had more awards than she had years in service. Perhaps he had the right to doubt her abilities, however poorly she had taken it at the time.
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She sat in the weapons locker, wearing only her jumpsuit, scowling down the barrel off her disassembled WOMP (as she had named it. While the ship did have an automatic weapons cleaner, she insisted on checking and recleaning her gear herself. While he could not exactly fault her dedication, he was starting to worry that she spent more time with her gun than she did with the only other inhabitant of the ship, namely him, or anyone else for that matter.
"Sir." he hesitated, not quite sure it was his place to say it, but he had seen this sort of behavior before and she would burnout eventually. His CO glanced up from her work. "News on Travus the traitor?" her words were light but her eyes were sharp. Jargon had learned to watch her eyes; they gave lie to the slapdash gun happy persona she had crafted for herself. He shook his head. "Nothing new, Sir." He paused again and then screwed his courage to the sticking point. Time to bite the bullet.
"Have you considered down time, sir?" She did not, as he half feared, jump up with a gleeful shriek and immediately abandon ship. Thankfully that reaction seemed to be saved for events like getting said ship. Instead she blinked at him, and said carefully, "You're right Jorgan. You done good work and we've been run hard for quite a while now. Go enjoy yourself. I'll com if anything comes up." With one last blink, as if she couldn't imagine him wanting free time, she returned to inspecting the gun.
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It took several minutes for her to realize that he had not in fact left. She looked back up at him, cocking her head to the side and smiling crookedly in a way that she knew annoyed him. "I'm sorry, did you want the keys to the ship?" To her delight, that vain on the side of his head twitched. She liked getting a rise out of the grumpy Cathar. Occasionally he even snarked back at her. Today didn't seem to be one of those days sadly. His tone was oh so professional when he collected himself enough to speak. "When was the last time you took some down time sir?" Taken back at his question it took her a moment to think.
Her finger tapped the barrel in her lap thoughtfully. "I..." she started and then stopped. 'I don't do down time' is hardly the thing to say to him. After all, if Jargon didn't loosen up at some point she'd have to hire a medic to pry the stick out of his ass. Finally she settled on something safer. "There's quite a lot of work for me to do. I don't think I have the time." She didn't meet his eyes as she said it and began hastily assembling her WOMP. It had been perfectly clean, it always was.
A hand gripped her shoulder, without armor in the way she could feel the strength he put behind it. "Make time." A long suffering sigh tore from him. "In fact be ready to go in an hour." Jorgan turned and started to walk away, leaving her stunned. "Was that an order?" She called out to him, still disbelieving. He paused and when he spoke he sounded smug. "You know I think it was."
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"Well?" He said, gesturing to the cantina. "What are you waiting for? Have at it." Jorgan watched in amusement as his 'Fearless Leader' tried and failed to surreptitiously slide behind him. Glaring around the room, she responded sharply. "Have at what exactly, Sargent?" He started making his way to the bar, leaving her little choice but to follow. "Drink, guy, dancing… Whatever it is that you officers do when you've been let off your leash." She hopped onto the stool next to him and gave him a baffled look.
"Um Jargon…" She started hesitantly. "I've spent most of my life in combat. I don't know how to engage others without a round of explosives!" Gesturing easily at the bartender, Jorgan smiled. "I've got something for that." Three Rattataki Death Wishes later the girl finally seemed to be enjoying herself. At any rate the assault specialist wasn't glaring at the crowed like they were imperials.
"So why are you so hung up about being off duty?" He asked, making small talk. A scowl settled over her features, and she hunched in closer to her drink. "I don't go off duty - I just peel off the exoskeleton." She muttered darkly. Jorgan looked down at her uncertainly. While she did occasionally mumble things knowing full well he'd hear them, the comment didn't seem to be directed at him. "Excuse me?" He asked.
The small trooper shrugged. "Something my ex said. I can describe in loving detail what the effects of an airstrike, can gush over the latest heavy gun, and am even capable of bitching about civilians in charge of military ops..." She took another swig of her Death Wish. "But I can't do small talk. My life is being a trooper." She smiled crookedly at him, this time mocking herself instead of him. "Couldn't tell you what's going on the latest episode of all my children, or gossip about clothing that doesn't repel shrapnel."
Fixing her with his best 'I am your superior in everything but rank' look he growled out. "You're too young to have given up on life outside the squad." She laughed surprising him. "Oh and you're one to talk? Mr. I'm using my down time to have drinks with my CO." She tipped her white cocktail towards the dancing crowed around them. "Shouldn't you be chatting up a nice young thing with tales of your heroic exploits?"
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She was warm, feeling really good. It was nice talking to Jargon when he wasn't being snooty. As if to negate that thought, the man in question snorted. "Yeah? What's so heroic about being demoted?" His tone was bitter and she wouldn't have that. "Um hello havoc squad?" She gestured imperiously with her drink. It sloshed a little, but she took no notice. "A civy chick won't know the difference between ranks, and you went from fighting backwater Seps to a crack fighting team." She thought back the reports she read. "And before that you were part of the best sniper squad in the business!" There. Let him argue with that.
"Have you been reading my file? He certainly sounded impressed. She laughed. "I'm your CO, it's my job." She stood up, a little shakily. "In fact I probably know this better stuff than you do. I'll go chat up a nice young thing for you." Looking worried, Jorgan stood up too. "That uh, that won't be necessary sir." He stammered out, but she overrode him. "Yes it will. It's my fault you're stuck with me and your fault I'm drunk." Incredulous, the Sargent grabbed her arm to steady her as she almost stumbled over air. "What kind of trooper can't hold her liquor?" He asked.
Righting herself and pulling away, she replied, "The kind that's going to get you laid, now hop to soldier."
Thankfully she passed out not soon after that declaration.
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It took weeks for her to look him in the eye again. She was all business, no nonsense. It was a nice change of pace, him getting under her skin instead of the other way around. Added bonus was she spent less time in the weapons locker, so he figured all in all the night out was a success. Of course the down side was that he started paying a bit more attention to watching her six than was strictly necessary. She was so busy avoiding him that he figured she didn't notice. Of course, Jorgan thought, if I can't keep my eyes to myself it won't just be her I have to worry about noticing. Hell maybe his CO was right and he needed to see some action between the sheets. Too bad the girl he was interested in outranked him... Not that he'd take advantage of that, it just be easier to ignore if he was the one in charge. Of course the idea of being in charge of her gave host to a whole other set of inappropriate ideas.
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It took ages for her to pull her head out and treat Jargon like she hadn't made a fool of herself. She over compensated by being overly professional. Every time she wanted to make a joke or say something smart ass just under human hearing but well within Cathar, the memory of telling someone under her command she was going to get them laid reared its ugly head. Eventually she got over it. So she couldn't drink. She could go on unofficial rescue missions in defiance of authority and come out smelling like roses. And she got to know Jorgan better. Hearing him talk about his team was a whole lot better than reading the dry reports.
Outside of official work however, it was harder to ignore jargon after she had decided that her making an ass out of herself was no big deal. She was aware of him in a way she hadn't been before and it was bloody annoying. Sure he was older than her, but he looked good in a uniform and when he wasn't raining on her parade, he was actually pretty fun to be around. He had a dry sense of humor and he could unload a magazine on the enemy in less than ten seconds. What more could a girl need? Worse than her noticing him was that she felt like it was written on her face. So she thought he was hot and really liked him as a person too... That didn't mean she was going to do anything about it! He didn't have to watch her like he could see what she was thinking... It was probably a good thing Cathar weren't psychic, because there was no way he'd approve of what was on her mind when she was off duty.